


Promised Glory

by Imperfect_Apollo



Series: Promised Glory [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Disabled Characters, Gore, Graphic descriptions of violence, Graphic injuries, Guns, Nazi mentions, Nazis, PTSD, Racism, Shells, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags will be updated, War AU, major death, no beta lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24910123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imperfect_Apollo/pseuds/Imperfect_Apollo
Summary: They were all told that fighting for their country was an honourable thing. That it'd bring them glory.Antonio 'Racetrack' Higgins found out they were nothing but liars.(Please read the tags guys.)
Series: Promised Glory [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802512
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Please. Due to the nature of this story, I beg you to read the tags. This is heavier than anything I've ever written and while my upload schedule is already trash, I believe I'll be even slower with this one as it is extremely hard to write for me. 
> 
> I've done my best with research and I hope that I don't offend anyone at any point in this story.
> 
> If at any time you believe I should, tell me what tags I should add.

Ghosts ran past the young soldier, yelling both headlines, true and false and at their friends. Private Antonio 'Racetrack' Higgins paid them no mind, lost in his own small world. He paid no heed to the stares from children walking past him, awe filling eyes at what they deemed a 'hero' instead of a boy with a shattered soul, robbed of his innocence by the promises of glory, handed to him by the government. 

No matter how hard he tried, his small private world was shattered at a flyer stuck to a pole, a familiar image staring at him. The very same image that beckoned him and his brothers into a situation they had no right to be in. Race's feet carried him with no prompting, destination locked on before he had even left the front line. 

A trembling hand wrapped around a handle, a heavy door shoved open. The familiar smell of cigar smoke and perfume greeting him. Music was drifting from the nearby stage, taking a small amount of weight off his shoulder. He stood in the back, saddened by the sight of empty seats. The times he had snuck in to watch a show during a day, each seat would be filled. Now they weren't. Multiple were empty and those that were filled were occupied by men who were stayed behind. The elderly and rich who decided they didn't wish to go and fight and would rather send the younger men to go to their death.

The young soldier shook his head, hiding in the corner as people filed out, leaving a smiling woman on stage. Slowly, he made his way down the aisle, managing a weak smile as Medda's eyes lit up. 

"Hey, baby."  
"Hey, Mama..." It was only when he got close to her that he allowed himself to let drop his act, tears rolling down his cheeks as he fell into her outstretched arms. Race viewed her as a mother and he knew all the other newsies did as well. There was just something so calming about her. He allowed the familiar smell of oak and coffee to surround him as he relaxed into the embrace. 

Around her, Race knew he could let all of his walls down. He didn't have to be the numb soldier, the cheeky older brother or serious second in command of Manhattan. In her arms, he could cry and act his age. She meant safety, she gave him the chance to be the child he was. "It's okay. I've got you now."

"I-I'se hate it. It's horrible t-there! Jojo and Buttons are dead! Hotshot's gone! Even da Delancey brudders are dead!" 

He didn't hear the soft sound of a crutch hitting the stage repeatedly over his wails. It had broken his heart when each of his brothers had left but he found it worse when they came back for a visit. A letter would bring both fear and hope. Fear that Crutchie had lost yet another brother and hope for good news.

Hearing one of the boys he found the strongest like this made him want to scream. He knew he couldn't take the pain away. He had no idea what those beautiful blue eyes had seen. Couldn't know what those sharp ears had heard. 

Those eyes filled with crystal tears looked up at him when he finally reached the blond. "C-Charlie?"

"I'se here Racer...I'se hear." He couldn't help the crack in his voice as he knelt down. He couldn't remember the last time he had truly seen the Italian boy cry. 

Now was his turn to be strong. He allowed himself to be pulled into the hug, not caring as his thin shirt got soaked through with salty tears. He wished he could take all of the pain away but he knew couldn't. All he could do is offer comfort the best he could. "I'se got cha." 

Long gone was the strong cocky blond boy who had been brought in half-dead by Jack one frosty night. Instead, he was replaced with a terrified shell. 

Crutchie had done his best to hide how shocked and devastated he was after hearing of Jojo and Buttons' deaths. Knowing the Delanceys were gone added to that despair. He might have hated them in the past and while he still harboured a small bit of hatred, he couldn't help but despair at the fact they were buried in an unknown land, never to return home.

Medda gently rested a hand on Race's face, running a thumb gently over scars on his pale skin. "Oh, Tony..."

She couldn't say 'it was okay' nor could she promise it _would_ be okay. All she could do was hold him gently, rocking both him and Crutchie back and forth gently. Each boy who had come to stay while on leave seemed more destroyed than the last. "We've got you, darling...We should get ya to your room for now okay?"

"Okay, Mama...." The weak shaky sentence just broke her heart even more. It was rare for the boys to call her a motherly name. No. Those moments were reserved for rare occasions with this being one of them. Gently, she helped the two boys to their feet, Crutchie carefully picking up the small duffle bag Race had arrived with, limping after the pair as quick as he could with the aid of his crutch. 

He slowed down, eyes resting on a closed door, soft noises coming from behind it that just broke his heart even more. He broke out of the spell, letting himself into the spare room that would be Race's home for the week. The sight of a paint-splattered apron brought a bittersweet smile to his face. Due to Race's former position of second in command, they had decided that he would also have the room Jack slept in when he would stay overnight at The Bowery Theatre. He forced his eyes away, instead looking at the trembling and sobbing boy on the bed. 

Nodding his head, Medda left with a soft kiss to Race's head. Crutchie could tell that he didn't want her there for now. 

"W-Who..." Race swallowed, trying to fight back the tremor. "Who's in the other room?"

Crutchie's breath hitched before he sighed, looking over to the wall. "It's...It's Mike."

"Is he..."

"He's not on leave." Crutchie bit his lip.

"I-Ike?" Race couldn't help but let out a broken whimper as the shorter boy sadly shook his head. 

"He's not doing well. He umm...He got honourably discharged." His voice trailed off, still remembering the day Mike had come in, sobbing and cursing the world for taking his twin from him. No longer was he the cheeky mischievous boy with a partner in crime but a broken young man with nothing left to lose. It hurt to look at him. He was a mirror image of the lost boy.

"Is he badly hurt?" 

"Yeah, he...He is. Ain't my place to say though."

"I'se understand...I'se'll see him at some point." He swallowed. "It'll be nice ta...Talk to someone who's been through the same thing."

"He'se might want ta see you. No one's gotten leave since 'e's come back. You'se the first one."

Race nodded, the two drifting into a semi-comfortable silence. Eventually, Race shakily grabbed Crutchie's hand, squeezing a few times. _I wanna be alone for now._

The other boy nodded, picking up on the message without a translation. A lot of the newsies had systems to give messages when they couldn't speak and for Race, one of those was using some form of hand movement, whether it be squeezes or using his finger to trace something. He stood, grabbing his crutch, smiling gently at him, kissing his brother's head. "I'm staying fa the night and 'm across the hall so if ya need me, I'se here."

"Alright...Thank ya, Charlie..." 

"It's okay." With one last smile, he closed the door behind him, letting silent tears drip from his face as he looked up, noticing the kind woman who had unofficially adopted them all. Instantly, he walked into her waiting arms. The week was going to be hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rember folks! Comments and kudos encourage me! I wanna know what you guys think about this! Also, if I've made a mistake anywhere, please let me know so I can edit it.


	2. Comfort

Race found himself tossing and turning, unable to close his eyes long enough to fall asleep. His brain overwhelmed with sounds of death, of screaming shells and bullets, of crying children because that's what they were at the end of the day. Children. 

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, eyes tracing every hole and divet. Every chip in the paint caught his eye and was filed away into his memory. He repeated the action about three times before a blood-curdling scream snapped his attention away, throwing him back to the trenches. If he focused enough, he could feel the mud sucking his feet down, could hear the rats scuttling around as the smell of blood and fear filled his nostrils. 

It took him a few minutes to shake himself out of the funk, feet acting on auto-pilot. He may now be a soldier, but being in Manhattan brought back the strong protectiveness that came with being the second in command of the newsies. The screaming hadn't stopped and the knocking wasn't getting through to the younger boy, hidden by the wooden door in front of him. Looking over his shoulder at the familiar sound of footsteps, he nodded. "I'se'll talk ta him." Sure Crutchie and Medda had been there for him but Race was going through the same thing as Mike was. He could relate to the fear that the younger boy felt. 

It took everything in him not to gasp at the sight. Shaking his head, he walked over, gently shaking the boy out of his nightmare, blinking back a whimper as the boy called out to the twin that would forever rest in a foreign land.

"R-Race?" 

"Yeah, I'm here." The blond wasn't that surprised as he got an armful of a shaking and sobbing teen. It was hard to ignore the fact the boy was missing an arm. He carefully sat back on the bed, arms around Mike's hips as he pulled him closer, head on top of his as if they were back at the lodging house, back before the war had robbed them all of their innocence. "I'se got cha kid."

"I-It's not fair! W-Why the fu-fuck is this happening to us? Why did they start this? W-Why did they t-take I-I-Ike?" Talking was a struggle for the broken boy. 

Race knew there was nothing he could say to comfort him, so instead, he just hummed softly, rocking the sobbing boy. Nothing he could say would bring Ike back. Nothing _anyone_ could say would bring the cheeky boy back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rember folks! Comments and kudos encourage me! I wanna know what you guys think about this! Also, if I've made a mistake anywhere, please let me know so I can edit it.


	3. The Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp! Let's see what caused the twins to be split shall we?

It took over two hours for him to stop shaking, comforted by the arms wrapped around him, by the soft humming filling his ears. He hadn't been able to tell anyone what had happened but Race brought a familiar comfort. A sense of safety. A sense of privacy, where he could say anything and it'd remain locked in the blond's brain. 

"I-It hurt so much. We'se were j-just flying like normal. I-It came outta nowhere and...And I w-watched as it t-took down his plane. I h-had ta watch him die!" He irrupted into another bout of wails, breath coming in gasps as he tried to calm down. "I w-was shot next 'nd got stuck! I...I couldn't feel ma arm and it took ages fa another g-guy ta come down and he went ta get I-Ike out after me but...But the plane exploded!" He gripped onto Race's shirt tightly, drenching it in his tears. It was a relief to finally explain what had happened to him. To _grieve_ properly. "I c-couldn't do anythin' ta save him! I-I'se failed!" He sniffed, gasping for air. "I w-woke up in the tent 'nd they'se had taken ma arm 'nd said I was lucky ta survive but I didn't want ta! I d-don't want ta be here!" 

Race swallowed, kissing the top of his head. Suicidal thoughts were normal in the trenches but seeing Mike so broken and wishing for death brought tears to his eyes. To see him blame himself for something that he hadn't been able to control broke his heart. Kissing the top of his head softly, he gently rubbed his back. "It ain't ya fault."

"It i-is! I'se coulda shot down the other plane!"

"Hey...Listen to me." Gently tilting the boy's head up, he shook his head. "You didn't fail 'im. You couldn't stop what happened. I know sayin' this won't help anythin' but you'se can't blame yaself. _**He**_ wouldn't want ya to blame yaself." He let out a soft smile. "Bugger would punch ya if he saw you'se blaming yourself fa this all." The sound of a weak chuckle widened his grin. "You'se know I'm tellin' the truth. Sides...He'se'll soak ya if you go 'nd join him right now. Everyone knows that." 

"I'se keep seein' it...He looked up at me when the p-plane was goin' down. I'se saw him lookin. I see it wh-whenever I'se shut my eyes! It won't go away!" 

"I know...I can't lie 'nd say it'll stop. We'se both know that it'll never leave ya but it might get easy. The ones we love never leave us. Remember that ya dork. He's always in ya heart and you'se can never get rid o' him...I promise. The fucker ain't goin' anywhere." 

"I g-guess ya right." He leant into the older boy's chest, listening to his heartbeat. They weren't flesh and blood but Race was still his brother and that would never change. Every Manhattan boy was his brother and while it was hard, he tried not to forget it. "I j-just hurts...I keep thinkin' I have my arm but it ain't there nd' I just remember everything." He bitterly looked at the missing space. "I d-don't know how ta handle it...Everyone stares at me in pity 'nd I'se hate it! If it ain't pity, it's disgust...I'se ain't a monster."

"I know ya ain't but you know how people is. We can't change their eyes but we know the truth. You'se ain't a monster kid." He kissed the top of his head. "Arm or no arm. The closest thing ya are ta a monster is a prankin' dork 'nd I'se the one who taught ya that." He smirked in pride at the giggle that escaped the hurt boy. No amount of laughter would heal anything but it could make things better for a short time. It could clear their minds. "Remember when ya dumped a bunch o' sand in Al's bed? Fucker 'ad sand in his clothes fa days!" 

Mike grinned weakly and nodded. "Than 'e dumped some on ma clothes 'nd Issac's. We'se couldn't get it out fa ages." 

"Yeah 'nd Mouth got all huffy cause he came over 'nd there was sand all over the floor."

"W-What 'bout the flour and water incident?"

"That shit was hard ta get outta ma hair ya little devil! It dried in a weird mess! How I slept through that shit I don't know." 

The conversation slowly caused a smile to remain on Mike's face. Race was just glad that talking of anything other than the water helped his brother to smile. Reminiscing on better times made everything easier. 

"Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank ya...Fa coming here...How long are ya gonna be home?"

"A week then I'se gone again..."

"Okay." The sigh the boy let out was full of despair but both knew Race had no control over it. He had been called to fight in a war that he had never was meant to be involved in. None of them were meant to be involved in it. 

Race brought him closer, running a finger through dark locks as brown eyes slid closed. The blond could tell that Mike finally had a chance to sleep through the night with him by his side. 

He honestly hadn't been surprised when Albert had come back and said that the twins had followed them to war. Multiple men had lied about their age to fight for something they didn't need to fight for. 

Carefully laying down on the bed, he gently adjusted the now sleeping boy, covering them both with the blanket. He had lost so many friends and Ike was just another gap in his family. What were they even fighting for? A few bits of land? Was that worth the deaths of hundreds...No _thousands_ of deaths? He didn't think so.

Shoving those thoughts out of his mind, Race forced his eyes closed, holding on to happy memories as he slowly drifted off. He had a week to be with the other side of his family but he'd make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rember folks! Comments and kudos encourage me! I wanna know what you guys think about this! Also, if I've made a mistake anywhere, please let me know so I can edit it.


	4. Promise Me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay heads up guys. There IS gore in this. If you wish to skip it, look for the ~ that mark the start and end of it! It's about how the Delanceys died so yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhhh...Long time no see. I don't really have much excuse other than no motivation and the one day I did get motivation, my laptop charger died and since I'm not a fan of writing on my phone, I didn't update. After getting my charger, I had to find motivation again lol.

Sunlight dribbled through a small crack through the curtains, dotting across the sleeping soldier's face, slowly drawing him back into the land of the living with a gentle coaxing hand. 

The boy tensed as he blinked his eyes open, terror and confusion washing over him as he tried to regain his senses. There were no sounds of pain nor fear. No scent of mud, rot, rats or blood. No. The only sounds were the rattling of wooden wheels on cobblestone accompanied by the soft clip-clopping of horses. That mixed with the soft breathing and weight on his chest almost tricked his mind into believing he was back at the lodging house. If it wasn't for the lack of bunk beds or the smell of clothes carelessly discarded on the floor after a hards day of work, he'd truly think he was safe with all of his brothers by his side. 

While yes, the lack of those sights and smells told him where he was, the true thing that drew him out of his hopeful fantasy was the single hand gripping to his shirt like a lifeline. 

Race sighed softly. Right. He was home for a week and Mike had been discharged after being in a plane crash...After losing his twin. The things he'd have to do during this short week weighed heavily on his already shattered heart. He had to go to Brooklyn to inform them of Hotshot's passing. He also had to go over to Flushing to inform them of their _own_ loses. Plus, he had to speak to Weasel about the Delanceys. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
How do you tell a man that you sat next to his nephews as they slowly passed away, each final breath filled with pain and fear? How do you tell him you pushed their beds together so they could hold reach other in their final moments? How do you tell him that you watched as the infection took them? How do you explain that their skin had been torn apart by shrapnel? How do you tell him that you were stared in the eyes by two dying boys as they begged you to kill them? ~~How do you tell him that you _ **would**_ done it if there had no one been around?~~ How do you tell him that one of them spent a few minutes clutching the hand of his brother's corpse, begging for him to come back?  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to and thus, would probably get it out of the way first. Besides, Weasel's office was in Manhattan and thus there was no point leaving it as the last task. He didn't want to put it off until evening. After all, if he did, Race doubted he'd ever face the older man. 

A small whimper dragged Race out of his memories and on instinct, carefully pulled Mike closer as he began to hum softly, running his fingers through the boy's hair in hopes that the gentle comfort would drift into his unconsciousness and it seemed to work judging by the way Mike snuggled closer, his grip tightening. "I'se got ya, kid. You can sleep easy wit' me here...I promise."

He sighed softly, watching as the other settled back down, dreams taking a bit more of a pleasant turn. He hated seeing Mike like this. He was so different from the boy he had left behind when he went overseas to fight in a war he shouldn't be involved in. Tearing his gaze away from him, Race stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing each small chip in the paint, filing it away into his memory. It was a habit he had picked up when his mind ran away from him. If he closed his eyes, he could picture the ceiling from the bunkroom, with each dent and chip perfectly placed.

Slowly, his fingers stilled in Mike's hair, only starting up again when the boy whimpered as he started to wake up. "Morning kid...How ya feeling?"

"Race?"

"Yeah, it's me. Ya stuck with me for the week." Race honestly wasn't surprised Mike seemed so shocked to see him. After all, Crutchie had confirmed that he was the first one to come home since his discharge and Mike hadn't been in a stable mindset when he had first seen him. It would have been easy to pass off as a dream, made up by a fractured mind in hopes of processing everything he had gone through. 

"I can deal with that..." Mike couldn't help but smile slightly, glad that his older brother was really there and not overseas, risking his life every day. Sure, they only had a week together but he'd take it. He'd take any moment he could, though he could already tell that Race had things to do. "M hungry." 

"Alright. Let's go find some grub." Race grinned, carefully sitting up without bothering to detach Mike. If the boy wasn't ready to let go, Race wasn't going to force him. The two shuffled off the bed, never losing contact for even a split second. Not that Race minded. The contact grounded him and reminded him where he was...Reminded him he was _alive_ and not lost forever in a foreign land.

Following Mike's directions, the two found themselves in a small meeting room that Race didn't even know existed. 

"Morning boys." Medda smiled, glad to see the two. This was one of the first time Mike had actually come _out_ of his room for food instead of it being carried to him. "Charlie will swing by later. He hasn't told anyone your home Tony considering he doubts you want to be swarmed by everyone."

Race chuckled and nodded, warmth spreading in his heart at the newsie's thoughtfulness. As much as he loved his newsie family, he didn't want to face them all right now. Maybe at some point this week he would but not instantly. He doubted he could stay strong in front of them all. "He's smart."

He sighed softly as he sat down, not at all surprised to see such a small breakfast of a single slice of bread with a thin layer of margarine and homemade jam spread on top of it. Rationing was hard on everyone and besides, he doubted he'd be able to stomach much so he sent a soft smile to Medda, hoping to ease her guilt at least a little. "Thanks, Mama." He took small bites, forcing himself not to quickly eat it. ~~When was the last time he had eaten fresh bread?~~

To no one's surprise, Mike simply picked at the meagre meal, only taking tiny bites before putting it down for a few minutes. He tasted nothing and doubted he'd ever taste again. Eating was hard for him nowadays and he subtly pushed the plate towards Race, ignoring their worried looks. Race knew he should talk to him but he didn't want to push the younger boy. He had gone through so much and only had one person to talk too...Race didn't want to be cut off.

"M gonna head back ta my room."  
"Alright...See ya later kid."  
Medda couldn't help but sigh once Mike left. "That's the most he's eaten at once in front of anyone..." She shook her head, smiling sadly at Race. "It's hard to get him out of his room these days but it's understandable." 

"I can talk ta him if you want...M just scared of him lockin' himself away...I hope it doesn't sound conceited, but I'se feel like I'm the only one who can help him...At least for now."

"It doesn't sound conceited baby... It's true. No one else has been through this other than you and there's only so much I can say." She smiled, gently reaching across the table to rest her hand on his, a knowing look in her eyes. "Don't try to force yourself okay? You need to take time for yourself as well."

"I'se'll try..." He smiled weakly. "I just got some stuff ta do this week...Sides, I want ta see all the fellas at least once. I don't wanna go back wit'out saying hi. I won't force myself...Promise." And for once, he meant it. He knew he had a habit to overwork himself in an attempt to ignore any issue he had, just so he could improve the mood of others. He had a bad habit of putting others before himself, especially in a hard time like this.

The two finished eating in comfortable silence. "I'll take Mike's plate ta his room in case he wants it later." He gently kissed Medda's cheek. "Thanks, fa breakfast Mamma."

"Anytime Tony." She smiled sadly as he walked out, plate carefully held in one hand. The boy was holding so much hurt inside and she doubted he'd ever release it. That was just the type of person Race was and nothing would ever change that fact.

Race carefully knocked on Mike's door, knowing deep down about Medda's concerns but also knowing that he wasn't about to change. "Hey...Can I come in?"

"Wanna be alone...Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'll put the plate in front of the door in case ya get hungry later."

"I don't wanna eat Race...Ain't hungry."

"Yeah well, you need to eat at least a little more later. If you need me, I'll be on the stage okay? Also, ya ain't go anything to be sorry about."

"Okay..."

Race smiled sadly as he sat the plate down, walking away. Part of him wasn't surprised that Mike didn't want to see anyone, but he was hoping that he would see an empty plate later. 

The stage was empty, his bare feet bringing no sound as he walked across it, the smooth and cold wood grounding him. He knelt down in front of the backdrop, eyes tracing the colours artfully blending together in a beautiful symphony, a mix of tawny and chocolate brown reaching up to a beautiful sky of cherry and periwinkle, trees of cinnamon, mocha and walnut reaching towards it, emerald leaves flowing gently in an imaginary breeze. 

Closing his eyes, he focused on something Jack had told him once. _"When you feel stressed and your mind is racing away from you, close your eyes kid. Focus on a place and you'll be there. It helps, trust me. It'll be ya own little slice of paradise, one no one can take away from you."_

He had laughed softly at the blush that had splashed across Jack's face when asked if that's what Santa Fe actually was. Just a mental place for him. He smiled, almost feeling the shove Jack had given him. It had been hard enough to knock him to the floor, causing a small playful wrestling match between the two brothers. 

"It's beautiful isn't it?" His eyes blinked open at the familiar voice supplemented with the soft clips of a pair of well-loved boots.

"Yeah...My brother is pretty awesome at this ain't he?" He smiled, turning his head slightly as the girl joined him, not caring about getting dust on her skirt. 

"He really is..." Katherine sighed, smiling sadly at the boy she viewed as her brother and confidant. "How are you doing? And don't you dare bullshit me, Higgins."

He snorted, shaking his head before sighing, knowing that she'd would be able to call him out and knew she _would_ call him out. Damn her journalist instincts. "It's...It's hard. I've been out there fa months now and I still don't understand. What are we even fightin' for? Some mud? The officers don't give a shit 'bout us. They just send us off ta die and only move when it's safe. It's hard." He clenched his fists. "It's bullshit! Trickin' all us inta thinking we'll get a bunch o' glory 'nd shit for goin' ta fight a war that ain't _ours_ ta fight. We're just a bunch of kids Kat!" He fiercely shook his head, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to clear his head. "We're just a bunch a kids..."

Carefully, she moved her hand so she could hold his gently, allowing him to just rant. "You're right Tony...None of you should be involved with this. You're kids and shouldn't be there. Everyone tricked you...That's not right."

"We thought we'd be helpin..." He looked up at the lights, forcing himself to blink away tears. "All we are is human shields. It's like they think we were born to take bullets..." 

"Tony...Cry if you need to you idiot...I've heard you say this multiple times to your boys. Crying helps and makes you feel better. There's no shame in crying, even if you are a boy. Fuck anyone who tells you not to. You can express your emotions." 

His soft laughing quickly turned into a sob. He never liked crying in front of people and he had already broken down in front of Medda and Crutchie and to him, that was bad enough, but with Katherine plainly telling him outright that he was allowed was enough to break through his admittedly weak walls. "I w-want to go back in time Kat...To when our biggest fight was against ya fudder..." He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "That seems like nothing now. It's child's p-play to what we're goin' through." He leaned into her, shoulders shaking as she wrapped her arms around him. "I w-wish I could go back."

"I know...I wish I could as well...I wish I could help in some way..."

"You are helpin'. You'se comfortin' me _and_ ya making us all those care packages despite all the restrictions 'nd shit. You and Les and the others. You all bring us hope, as sappy as that sounds...Reminds us that someone cares for us." He shook his head. "We love mail day cause we get a chance to see ya letters 'nd gifts. Ah...That reminds me. Jack did a few drawins for you. They're in my bag."

She smiled and nodded. "You guys will always be cared about. No matter what and I promise that."

"Can ya promise me one more thing?"

"Of course." 

Race pulled back from her comforting embrace, face blank as he stared her in the eyes, the look in them almost sending a shiver down his spine. "No matter what, you'll never go overseas. Not ta be a nurse or anything! If ol' Joe says _sure you can go_ stay in Manhattan."

"But-"

"No fucking buts. You gotta stay here. I'm not saying that cause you'se a girl. It's just that no one is meant ta see that shit. I don't want you to write a friend's death certificate. I don't want you to have to watch the life drain from someone's eyes. I don't want you to see all those wounds." 

"Tony..."

"Promise me, Katherine!"

"I promise."

He breathed a sigh of relief, a small exhausted smile gracing his face. "Thank you...That's all I can ask from you."

"Don't worry. We'll keep her here no matter what." Crutchie grinned softly as he made his way over to the two. "She ain't going anywhere. Sides, there's only so much Blink 'nd I can do to control all the fellas. We need her help."

Race let out a wet laugh as his brother joined the two on the floor. "Damn right you do. Those bastards don't keep calm for more than an hour." 

"Yeah. Les and Boots don't like ta sit still. They're causing chaos 'nd I blame you and Al for that. You two seem ta have taught them all they know." 

Race grinned, listening calmly as Crutchie and Katherine filled him in on everything he had been missing and in turn, he supplied them with the few good tales he had from the trenches, the sound of their laughter floating around in the air.

The trio's conversation was cut short by the faint sound of the morning bell, alerting them that work would start soon. Race suddenly felt cold, a sick feeling weighing heavily in his chest. 

"You okay?" Crutchie paused after standing up, concerned about Race's sudden change in behaviour. 

"Y-Yeah...I need ta do something..."

It quickly hit the two what the blond was talking about. 

"Hey, if you want, we can go talk to them..."

"It's somethin' I need to do...Thanks though." Race forced a weak smile, shakily standing up. "Sides, I don't wanna force you two to walk all over New York fa me...I could do with the fresh air as well." Quickly, he wiped his eyes, doing his best to rid his face of the traces of his earlier tears. "I'll go tell Mike that I'se heading off and grab some stuff. I'll also get those drawings Jack did fa you all. The others did some stuff as well. I'll be right back." Quickly, he jogged off, leaving the other two behind. 

"I'm worried about him...He's forcing himself to act like he did before he left."

"I know...I'm worried as well, but there's not much we can do about it...We've gotta be here for him this week. That's all we can do after all." She gently squeezed his arm, gaze drifting back to the paintings. 

"He'll be okay Kath...Jack's a strong one."

"I know...I just...Can't help but worry about him and everyone else. They shouldn't be over there at all but they've got no choice." She sighed softly. "I know they're strong but still. Some of them are already gone and aren't coming back." Looking away from the painting, she stared at her hands. "I can't help but feel like I'm not doing enough. Sarah, Davey and Specs are medics and the others are fighting...I'm just sitting here making boxes for them."

"Hey...You're doing a lot here." Crutchie looked over at her with a firm look. "As I said, we're not letting you go over there. We never agreed with them going." 

Before she could reply, Race returned with his duffle bag, hand clenched tightly around the strap as he tried to ground himself and face what he had to do. "M ready...I'm gonna wait till everyone's brought their papes though. I don't wanna hold everyone back from sellin' after all." He gave a weak smile to them, knowing that they weren't fooled. They knew he wasn't ready to face them.

"Alright." Crutchie, always the optimistic smiled and started walking. "Come on, I don't want Blink ta deal with them all alone. I dunno how much he can take from them all alone." 

Katherine smiled, taking Race's hand as support. "You'll do okay Antonio...I believe in you."

"Thanks, Kat..." He grinned weakly, following his younger brother. "Ya right...I'll be fine." At least, that's what he was hoping.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading. This is probably one of the lighter chapters for this story.


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